Call it What You Will Because I'll Never Tell
by The Original G.I.N.G.A
Summary: Oneshot piece, strong implications of a HavocMustang nature. Haven't you ever wondered why Jean Havoc put up with Roy? There's a good reason, and this story is how far I suspect he was willing to go for Roy. Suggestive language, nothing too vulgar.


**Call it What You Will - Because I'll Never Tell**

by the G.I.N.G.A.

**_author's notes: This is my first time posting on I hope that you enjoy my story. ; I wrote this because Jean Havoc gets absolutely no love. Actually, he doesn't get any love in this story ... but it's a lot less comical. Ahem. _**

-

It was different, this time.

"Mm..."

I was the one that came to you, not the other way around. Not like it usually is.

I could see it, you know? I could tell how badly you were hurting. I could tell how much you were torturing yourself by holding it all in. I know what that's like, I've been there, and that's what made me knock on your office door.

"Help ... me. Can't stand up ..."

Christ, man. Why are you doing this to yourself? You're awfully heavy, probably from the weight of all that guilt you're burdening yourself with. Button your shirt at least. Probably a good idea if you zipped up your pants, too.

"..."

Fine. I'll do it for you. How much did you drink anyway? With you it's hard to tell. Everyone knows where you stash your empty bottles, but nobody seems to be able to figure out how much you drink and when.

Am I ... the only one who knows this is part of the reason _why_ you're drinking? I'd like to think otherwise, but something tells me that I'm the only one who sees this side of you. I wish I could ask you out loud; but I know you wouldn't answer me. Neither of us really says anything to the other. We don't ask, we just do. You never tell me what you want, you never tell me exactly what to do. I'm not foolish enough to ask you myself, I have a feeling that'd upset you. In a strange way, I'm grateful for that. If either of us said anything, that'd make it 'real'.

We can't have that, can we?

"Mmmm-to m'roomm..."

Alright, alright. Just hold on ... yeah, like that. One step at a time, now. Even if you should stumble, you know I won't let you fall.

I need a cigarette. And I can't have one because I'm holding your drunk ass up. I'm half tempted to let you drop so I can light one up, but ... even I wouldn't be that cruel.

"So bad ..."

No kidding.

"Want him ..."

I know, that's why I came to see you in the first place. That's why I did what I did for you. I try hard to satisfy you, to fill the void that's swallowing you, and well ... I swallowed some of it for you.

"So young ... "

So inexperienced. I know I acted out that part of your fantasy pretty well. I've never done that before; it's highly unlikely I'll ever do it again. I tested, fumbled, gagged, every move I made was shy and uncertain.

And you comforted me.

If you had treated me like_ me_, you'd have chastised me for my lack of skill. Instead, you put your hand on my head and gently ran your fingers through my hair. It was then that I knew for sure, I knew the part I was playing for you.

"E...Edwa..."

Watch that step, nngh, there we go. You're getting heavier by the minute here, you're starting to drag me down with you.

"Barely twelve ... and I want ... him ..."

I can see how that'd be upsetting, but we both know your desires aren't of ill intent. I think you see a bit of yourself in him, see a bit of the man who willingly shoulders a heavy burden, who is both driven and destroyed by it.

You see him, just a smart-mouthed kid, taking on the adult world and knowing only the pain and suffering that lurks there. And when you see that, when you connect those dots and relate his experiences to your own, you want to help him. Save him. You don't want him to end up like you, so in turn, you want to ...

"Give him ... pleasure ..."

Exactly.

Sure he's young, immature and maybe more than a little naive, but there's something about him that makes him seem older. Something that can't quite be put into words, but ...

It's something that's _broken_.

"I'm ... sick ... "

I'm not going to dispute that. Where's your room key? Ah, in your jacket.

"Worthless ... "

I know a whole litany of people who'd beat the ever-loving daylights out of you for even _thinking _that. I'm pretty sure you're not worthless; even if I might say so sometimes ... but to be fair, you do a hell of a lot to piss me off. But ... you know it won't make much of a difference.

You know that, no matter what, I'll stay.

Again, that's why I do what I do for you. Whether you close your eyes and see Major Hughes or Edward Elric ... it doesn't matter to me. There's a part of you that's broken, and a part of you that needs ... _deserves_ ... to know release. A few heated moments in a tortured existance where all you know, all you feel, is pleasure.

"I want him ... so ... so badly ... I want to touch him ... hol ... hold hi--"

Careful now, I don't need you running into some errant piece of furniture and having to take the blame for a black eye. This place is pretty messy, usually you keep it neat as a pin. There are books and papers all over the place ... are you looking for something? Or are you just throwing them around because you're angry?

"Grrmph..."

_Drunk_ and angry?

"I am ... a sick ... twisted ... worthless ... "

Don't do this to yourself! I wish I could shout at you and clock you right in the face, but ... well, you wouldn't take me seriously and I doubt you'd remember it. And if you did remember, you'd kick my ass for hitting you.

"...worthless example ... of ... a ... human ... being ..."

And down you go. Shit. Putting you to bed is going to be more of a chore now. Are you doing this on purpose? Making me go through these motions because even when I give you all I have _it isn't enough_?

I'll put you on your side, head hanging off the bed. You'll have a better chance of living through the night.

"..."

Y'know, I think I'll stay here for awhile. I know it's customary for me to get as far away from you as possible when we've finished our business, but since tonight was so different in so many ways ... I'll keep an eye on you.

I wonder what you're dreaming about. Or if you're dreaming at all. Even when you're asleep ... well, unconcious at least ... you look like you're in pain. There are few who know you well enough to see it, but ... all of us do. All of us know. Most of us don't know everything ... I doubt there's a single one of us that does ... but ...

"Mmm..."

Yeah, just for an hour or two. Just to make sure you keep breathing. Don't worry, I'll be gone long before the sun comes up and you're faced with the grim realization that you have no idea how you got here.

I'll look after you. And ...

I guess a goodnight kiss wouldn't hurt, might scare away some of those bad dreams.

"Mmph...nn..."

Goodnight, Roy.

-

FiN


End file.
